


hostage

by thespacenico



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cop AU, Established Relationship, Hostage Situation, M/M, Nothing bad happens though, Worried Keith, hand-holding, i've been watching a TON of b99, kiss, lance is badass he can do anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico
Summary: “You’re such an ass.”Lance stares at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”“You’re not allowed tosaythat unless I can say it back,” Keith snaps.“What—” Lance blinks. Then he realizes just what Keith is talking about and he falters, letting out a long, slow breath. “Oh,” he says softly.“Yeah,” Keith responds sharply, but his voice wavers and he huffs. “Oh.”





	hostage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stellalights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellalights/gifts), [caelestee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestee/gifts).



> HI! TRIGGER WARNING JUST IN CASE!  
> lance is in a sort of hostage situation, just a guy robbing a convenience store. he shoots his gun a couple times just to be scary but no one gets hurt.
> 
> also this is dedicated to angela, sarah and the rest of the b99 crew
> 
> that is all please continue

Lance has to admit.

When he and Keith had managed to convince Captain Shirogane to give them both the night off so that they could go on an actual date for once, he hadn’t envisioned their evening going quiet like this.

This, being that he volunteered to run into the nearest convenience store and grab snacks for them to smuggle into the movie theater, and wound up in a kind-of-sort-of hostage situation with another unfortunate civilian and a pretty scary-looking guy with a pretty scary-looking gun.

Lance has always told Keith that he’d reap the benefits of his indecisiveness one day. Today is that day. Because thanks to his inability to choose between chocolate milk and orange soda, he’d still been in the back of the store, completely out of sight when the aforementioned scary-looking guy burst in with his gun and demanded that the cashier give him all the money in the register.

Now, he’s crouched between the chip and the candy aisle with the bottle of orange soda that he’d been considering in one hand and his phone in the other, already dialing Keith’s number. The scary guy—Lance has named him Harley, for the sole reason that his sleeveless leather jacket gives him a biker kind of vibe—has his gun levelled at the cashier, who’s scrambling to shove all the money that he can into the bag that Harley all but threw at him.

 _“Just get the chocolate milk, Lance,”_ is the first thing that Keith says when he picks up after the first ring. _“You got orange soda last time. Also, hurry up because if you take much longer we’re gonna be late for the movie.”_

Lance winces. “Yeah, uh—about that.”

He risks a glance around the end of the aisle, making sure to stay out of sight. The other man who had the unfortunate luck of getting stuck inside at least had the good sense to stay out of the way, huddled in the corner of the store where Harley had ordered him to stay. Harley himself keeps glancing between the cashier and the door; Lance can’t tell if he’s looking out for his getaway or if he’s just paranoid that someone else is going to walk in at any second.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make the movie.”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other end, which—given the current situation, feels like years to Lance. _“Why?”_ Keith asks slowly. _“What are you—why are you whispering? Lance, what’s going on?”_

“Uh.” Lance pulls back into his hiding spot and licks his lips, considering his next words carefully. “Well—okay, long story short, this guy is kind of robbing the store—”

_“What?”_

Lance stifles a groan. “Keith, please don’t freak out—”

 _“Of course I’m gonna freak out!”_ Keith snaps, sounding very much freaked out. _“What’s happening? Is he armed—”_

There’s a gunshot, and the air shatters.

Lance nearly drops his phone at the sound of it (he really _does_ drop the bottle of orange soda, but luckily the noise gets lost in the ensuing chaos), at the same time that he hears a panicked _“Lance?”_ on the other end, followed by a shout from the front of the store. He immediately twists back around, instinctively expecting the worst—but no, everyone seems fine. Relatively speaking. There’s a new hole in the wall behind the cashier, who’s trembling so badly he’s having trouble getting the money into the bag. The other man less so, although he still looks visibly shaken.

He almost forgets that he’s on the phone until Keith’s panicked voice comes through once again. _“Lance, are you okay? Hello? Lance—”_

“I’m fine,” Lance interrupts, quick and low, hiding back behind the aisle and shoving down the pang of guilt at the sound of Keith’s sharp inhale. “Keith, I’m fine. You’ve gotta call the precinct.”

_“What? But—Lance, I’m not just gonna—”_

“I know, that means you have to hang up with me,” Lance says, as soothingly as is physically possible when he’s speaking so quietly he can hardly even hear himself. “But I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

_“I’m coming inside.”_

“Wh—no!” Lance whispers frantically, waving one hand in the air even though Keith can’t see him. “You don’t have your firearm on you!”

 _“Neither do you!”_ Keith hisses.

“There’s no time for this, Keith!” There’s another shout, and Lance peeks around the edge of the aisle again to see Harley waving the gun around in a threatening gesture as the cashier scrambles to pick up the wad of bills that he’s dropped. “I’m hanging up, okay?”

_“No! Lance, wait—”_

“Call the precinct, don’t come inside,” Lance says over the sound of Keith’s insistent, frantic protests. He pulls back and is ready to end the call, before he decides there’s one last thing he should probably say… just in case. You can never be too careful in this line of work. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Keith?”

 _“Lance,”_ Keith begs, voice sounding desperate and terrified. _“Don’t. Please, please don’t, please just stay on the phone—”_

“I love you,” Lance says.

And then he hangs up.

Keith will hate him for that, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it right now.

He releases a quiet breath and slides his phone back into his pocket as he swivels his head around to check his surroundings. There’s not much to work with in this area. Pretty much everything is packaged, meaning it would make too much noise if Lance so much as looked at anything for too long. He could try to find something glass—a beer bottle would work nicely, something that could knock the guy out—but the sound of a refrigerator door opening would make just as much if not more noise.

So the direct approach is out. There’s not much he can do from here without getting caught, and who knows what Harley would do if he found Lance back here? What he needs is a distraction.

Harley is shouting again, evidently forcing the cashier to the next register at the other end of the counter. Lance has to scramble backward and over to the next aisle to avoid being seen, scowling in frustration and tightening his grip on the dumb, totally useless bottle of orange soda in his hand—wait.

Lance glances down at the bottle. _Huh. That works._

Next course of action, then: make a plan. If he times it right, he could unscrew the cap and hope the sound of carbonation and air escaping the bottle makes enough noise to warrant a brief investigation by Harley. Best case scenario, Lance could sneak around the aisle while Harley is poking at an open bottle of orange soda left on the ground and take him by surprise, preferably _before_ he turns back around to avoid any risk of accidental gunshots or collateral damage. Or he could just roll the bottle so it hits the counter and hope it confuses Harley long enough that Lance could leap out and disarm him—

The sound of a gun cocking interrupts his thoughts, and he freezes. Then he slowly turns his head, and finds himself face-to-face with the barrel of Harley’s gun. “Uh,” he says eloquently, trying not to go cross-eyed.

“Up.”

Lance obeys, leaving the bottle on the floor and gradually lifting his hands as he stands, eyes still fixed on the gun. He and Keith had parked around the side of the store, and Lance isn’t sure where Keith is now, but _god_ he hopes Keith can’t see what’s going on now that Lance can be seen through the glass storefront. “Hey, pal, nice to meet you too—”

Harley ignores him, jerking his head in the other man’s direction. “Over there.”

“No problem, bud.” The man and the cashier both watch silently, eyes wide with fear as Lance follows Harley’s instructions and moves to join the man in the corner of the store. He tries not to flinch at the sight of the gun still trained on him when he turns back around to face Harley. “Listen, what do you say we let these guys go, and I’ll give you the rest of—”

“Shut up,” Harley barks, and Lance’s mouth snaps shut. The cashier jumps and fumbles with the keys to the second register when Harley shouts once again for him to start putting the rest of the money into the bag.

Lance is helpless to do anything but stand there with the other man and watch, his palms itching with the need to stop all of this. His eyes sweep across the store, but again, there’s not much he can do from here without getting caught, either. He glances sideways at the man beside him, after making sure that Harley is preoccupied with the cashier.

“Hey.” The man starts slightly at the sound of Lance’s whisper, but his eyes flick over. “What’s your name?”

The man looks from Lance to Harley, back to Lance. “Cameron,” he breathes out shakily.

“Okay, Cameron.” Lance gives a small nod, trying to move as little as possible to avoid attracting Harley’s attention. “I’m Lance. We’re gonna be fine. Just do whatever he says.”

“Hey!” They both tense at the sound of Harley’s voice, and Lance looks to see Harley aiming the gun back in their direction. “No talking!”

“Relax, buddy.” Lance raises his hands in the air again placatingly. “We’re just making conversation. You know, just wanna get to know the guy I’m being held hostage with.”

“One more word out of you and I _will_ shoot,” Harley growls threateningly.

Lance reluctantly presses his lips together and tries not to glare. Satisfied, Harley returns once again to the cashier, who’s almost finished cleaning out the register. His hands are still shaking violently as he hands the bag over the counter, and Harley snatches it and places it on the floor, followed by a gruff: “Wallet.” The cashier immediately scrambles to get his wallet out of his pocket, handing it over just as quickly before Harley levels the gun at him and orders him over to the corner with Lance and Cameron.

He makes the same demand of Cameron, who, thankfully, took Lance’s advice to heart and complies. Then he turns the gun on Lance (how many times has it been now? Four?) and holds a hand out expectantly. Lance narrowly resists the urge to say something snarky.

“I assume you’d like my wallet?”

Well. Something _too_ snarky, at least. Harley threateningly cocks the gun again and Lance lets out a breath. “Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez.”

He lowers one hand and slips it into his back pocket, producing his wallet and extending his arm, scowling at Harley’s arrogant smirk. Harley reaches for the wallet.

Everything else happens in a blur.

The second that Harley takes hold of Lance’s wallet, Lance lunges forward.

There’s another gunshot.

The bullet flies into the ceiling somewhere overhead, Lance having managed to deflect Harley’s arm at the last second before they both go tumbling to the floor. There’s shouting. Some wrestling. Lance quickly gains the upper hand, knocking the gun from Harley’s grasp and shoving his shoulder against the floor. Harley swipes at his face and gets a decent blow in at Lance’s cheek, but Lance has _definitely_ taken worse.

The next thing he knows, Lance has flipped Harley over to lie on the floor face-down, both arms twisted around, one of Lance’s knees pressed against his back to keep him down. And not a moment too soon, the sound of police sirens becoming louder with every passing second until he can see the flashing of red and blue lights in his peripheral vision. So Keith called the precinct after all.

Lance lets out a triumphant laugh, breathless and victorious. “And you were so close, too.”

Harley just groans.

It doesn’t take long for more officers to come rushing into the store. Cameron and the cashier are quickly ushered outside to the ambulance, presumably for the EMTs to check them out in case of injury or shock. As soon as Lance is assured of their safety, he willingly relieves his hold on Harley and allows the two leftover officers to take over.

He watches as they cuff Harley’s wrists, one of them already rattling off his rights like they have so many times before. Harley must have gotten another few hits in during the scuffle, because Lance tastes blood on the corner of his mouth but he thinks it’s just a scrape. He stands aside as the officers wrangle Harley to his feet, holding an arm on either side.

One of them catches Lance’s eye and raises an eyebrow, nodding toward the front of the store. “You’d better get out there, McClain.”

“Hm? Oh, no, I’m fine.” He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. It stings a little, but there’s not much blood when his hand comes away. “S’just a scratch. I don’t need to get checked out or anything—” He hesitates when he looks back up to see the incredulous on the officer’s face, before he finally starts to understand what he means. “Oh.” He blinks, and then a jolt of panic pulses through his chest. _“Oh.”_ Then he turns and dashes toward the door without another word, all but flinging it open and stumbling out into the warm, summer night air.

It’s a little disorienting, the flashing lights of the police cars and the ambulance scattered throughout the parking lot compared to the fluorescent lights of the convenience store. He squints a little against the sudden brightness, eyes searching, heart pounding in his ears as the adrenaline finally seems to catch up to him.

He finds Keith standing at the edge of the parking lot outside one of the cars with Shiro. His once sort-of-neat ponytail now hangs loosely over one of his shoulders, like he’s been running his fingers through his hair the way he does when he’s worried. One hand is placed over his stomach like maybe he’ll be sick, and he keeps leaning slightly every which way like he’s looking for something, like he’s looking for—

His eyes land on Lance, and Keith’s entire body visibly wilts with relief.

Lance imagines he was too busy staring at Keith to remember when either of them started to move. Only that suddenly, Keith is much closer than he originally was and Lance’s face is breaking out into a smile, his shoulders sighing as Keith lurches forward into his outstretched arms.

The embrace is short-lived; Lance has hardly had time to register it by the time Keith is pulling away, eyes wide with concern, hands moving to grip the sides of Lance’s arms. “Lance, are you okay? Are you hurt?” His brow furrows as his eyes quickly range up and down over Lance’s figure, inspecting for any sign of injury. “Does an EMT need to check you out?”

“Keith,” Lance chuckles, although he doesn’t do much to stop Keith from smoothing out his shirt and continuing to check every inch of him for damage. “I’m fine—”

His response is cut short by Keith’s hands coming up to his face and tilting his chin up. Keith’s eyes widen and he gasps, fingers splaying across his cheek. “Lance, your _face.”_

“There’s nothing wrong with my face!” Lance says defensively, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle his way out of Keith’s grasp. “Keith—”

“You’re bleeding,” Keith continues frantically, somehow firmly holding Lance’s face in place while simultaneously keeping his touch gentle. “That looks like it’s gonna bruise. Does it hurt? The EMT should look at it—”

 _“Keith.”_ Lance manages to clamp his hands over Keith’s and he freezes, eyes finally focusing on Lance’s. Lance curls his fingers underneath Keith’s and offers the most reassuring smile he can muster. “Really, I’ve had worse. I’m fine. Promise.”

For a split second, Keith almost looks like he still wants to protest. And for another split second, Lance is sure he will, because Keith’s expression hardens and suddenly his hands are slipping out from underneath Lance’s and shoving him in the chest just hard enough for Lance to stumble back a step.

“You’re such an ass.”

Lance stares at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“You’re not allowed to _say_ that unless I can say it back,” Keith snaps.

“What—” Lance blinks. Then he realizes just what Keith is talking about and he falters, letting out a long, slow breath. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” Keith responds sharply, but his voice wavers and he huffs. “Oh.”

They stand quietly for a moment, still only a step apart, Lance feeling very small surrounded by the flashing lights and sounds of officers walking about and talking with one another. Keith clenches his jaw, and his eyes flutter the tiniest bit and he huffs one more time before closing the gap between them and throwing his arms around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him in close and burying his face against his neck.

“I love you too,” he mumbles, fingers stretching the fabric of Lance’s shirt across his back.

Lance sighs quietly as he reciprocates, circling his arms around Keith’s waist and tucking his face into Keith’s hair. “I know.” He pauses, trailing one hand up and down the length of Keith’s back. “I’m okay.”

“I know,” Keith sniffs, and Lance smiles.

They stay that way for a while, content just to be close to each other amidst the decreasing fray of lights and conversation. Lance closes his eyes and breathes Keith in as much as he can, occasionally rubbing his arm up and down Keith’s back, soaking in the feeling of something warm and solid against him. Not until they both hear someone clear their throat do they pull away, although they don’t go far. Lance doesn’t say anything about the slight red rimming Keith’s eyes, offering him another reassuring smile and finding Keith’s hand, twisting their fingers together and holding on tight.

Shiro has made his way over from his car, keeping a respectful distance so they can have their moment but close enough that they can have a conversation. Lance nods in acknowledgement, far past the point of embarrassment from holding Keith’s hand around him. “Captain.”

“McClain,” Shiro greets him, nodding in return. “I’m glad you’re alright. Sorry you two ended up having to work on your night off.”

“It’s an occupational hazard,” Lance shrugs, at the same time that Keith blurts: “We’re taking the day off tomorrow, too.”

Lance and Shiro both turn to look at him, Lance in surprise and Shiro’s eyes glittering with amusement. Keith tightens his hold on Lance’s hand and clears his throat. “Sir,” he adds calmly.

Shiro glances between the two of them, considering. His mouth twitches. “Take the rest of the weekend off.” Lance’s mouth nearly drops open, but he manages to keep his jaw from unhinging just in time. Shiro smiles. “See you both on Monday.” And then he turns and retreats back to his car, Keith and Lance watching as he goes.

Keith lets out a breath once Shiro’s car door has closed, and Lance’s eyes follow until Shiro has pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared. Lance pulls out his phone and glances down at the screen.

“Hm. We could still make the last half of the movie.”

Keith scoffs, already tugging him forward to their own car that’s been left parked around the other side of the store. “Absolutely not. We’re going home and ordering takeout and eating dinner in bed.”

Lance finds himself grinning, letting Keith pull him along until they’ve reached the car. “Does that mean my place or yours?”

“Does it matter?”

Lance sighs wistfully as Keith pulls out the keys to unlock the driver side door. “I didn’t even get chocolate milk.”

“We’ll make some,” Keith says dismissively.

“Hot chocolate isn’t the same as chocolate milk, Keith. That’s why they have different names.”

Keith pauses, one hand still hovering at the handle of the car door as he glances over his shoulder. Lance leans one hand against the car and lifts an eyebrow as he turns around. “Okay, A,” Keith starts, folding his arms over his chest. “They totally are the same. B, this is a dumb argument to get into right now.” He leans back against the car, and his eyes start to drift a little. “And C…"

Lance smirks, moving easily to plant his other hand on the other side of Keith’s head. “Yeah?”

Keith bites his lip as his gaze settles. “No one can see us back here.”

A small laugh bubbles up and out of Lance’s chest. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

“I think,” Keith starts, his hands coming up to grip the collar of Lance’s jacket. “That means you should kiss me.”

“And if I don’t?” Keith pouts, and it’s so adorably endearing that Lance almost gives up on his little game. He blinks innocently. “I think we might have a hostage situation here.”

Keith fixes him with the most unamused, deadpan look that Lance has ever received in his career, which—says a lot. “If you make a joke about ‘holding my heart hostage’ after everything that just went down, I _swear_ I’ll cuff you to that pole over there and leave you here.”

Lance opens his mouth. Keith raises an eyebrow. Lance closes his mouth. “I wasn’t gonna do that,” he mutters.

“Right,” Keith agrees, lacing his fingers through the hair on the back of Lance’s neck. “Because you were gonna do this.”

Then he pulls Lance down and kisses him.

It’s soft, slow, and chaste—Lance can tell that Keith is being careful, pressing his lips to the cut at the corner of Lance’s mouth, tracing his thumb over the skin on his cheek that he can feel is already starting to bruise. He smiles when they break apart, Keith leaning forward for one last quick peck before lightly pushing him away so he can finally unlock the door.

“Now hurry up and get in the car.”

“Yes sir,” Lance teases, slipping around the front to climb into the passenger seat. He waits for Keith to start the car before reaching over and sliding their hands back together, resting them on their shared armrest. “Where to first?”

Keith shoots him a look as he backs out of the parking space, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. “I already told you. We’re going home.”

Lance hums contentedly, lifting their joined hands to his mouth and brushing his lips across Keith’s knuckles. “Alright then, Kogane.” And he decides, as Keith is pulling out of the parking lot, that it really doesn’t matter, Keith’s place or his. As long as it’s together.

“Take us home.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.thespacenico.tumblr.com)!  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/thespacenico/)!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/thespacenico)!  
> 


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